Chapter 21: The Calm Before the Storm

The following days after the grand ball were filled with preparation and unease. Alaric found himself caught between the excitement of the nobles who rallied around him and the looming dread of Demiurge's presence, which cast a long shadow over the kingdom. Whispers of the Orc threat circulated in hushed tones, and the nobles discussed their plans for defense, all while keeping an eye on the dark figure who seemed to revel in their turmoil.

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The Council of Nobles

In the expansive meeting hall of the Leonhart estate, the nobles gathered once more, their expressions a mix of determination and apprehension. Baron Leonhart took his place at the head of the long, polished table, glancing at the faces of those assembled.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," he began, his voice steady. "We face a grave threat from the Orcs. Alaric has been kind enough to share his insights from his previous encounters, and it is imperative we strategize accordingly."

Alaric nodded, standing at the side of the baron, feeling the weight of their expectations on his shoulders. "The Orcs are not to be underestimated. Their numbers are growing, and they are becoming more organized. If we do not act swiftly, we could face devastation."

The nobles nodded in agreement, their expressions shifting to concern as they considered the implications of Alaric's words. A nobleman named Lord Vance, known for his fiery temper, spoke up. "But how do we fight them when they have numbers on their side? We need more allies if we're to stand a chance!"

"Agreed," another noble chimed in, her voice shaking slightly. "And what of this mage who's supposed to be our savior? What if he falters in battle?"

Demiurge, who had been standing in a shadowy corner of the room, chuckled softly, drawing the attention of the assembly. "Ah, how delightful it is to see so much concern for the well-being of your dear mage. But I assure you, Alaric has proven himself capable—though perhaps not as formidable as some may hope."

Alaric felt the heat rise to his cheeks but steadied himself. "I may not be the most powerful, but I will fight alongside you all. We must unite against this common enemy."

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Tensions Rise

The nobles began to discuss possible alliances, each noble vying for a strategic position. Alaric felt a sense of urgency building within him as the conversation spiraled into debates over territory and resources.

"Perhaps we should negotiate with the neighboring kingdoms," suggested Lady Isadora. "If we can form an alliance with them, we could bolster our defenses and gather reinforcements."

"But what if they refuse?" Lord Vance replied, his voice laced with skepticism. "We cannot rely on others to protect our land. We need to be proactive!"

"Proactive or not, we cannot simply rush into war," Baron Leonhart interjected firmly. "We need to be strategic in our approach. Alaric, what do you suggest?"

Alaric took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "We should send scouts to gather information about the Orc movements. Knowing their numbers and patterns will allow us to strategize our defenses. Additionally, I propose we reach out to his master."

A murmur swept through the room. Demiurge's laughter echoed once more. "Ah, yes. My master would be most pleased to hear that you are considering him as an ally. Though I cannot guarantee that he will be interested in your plight."

"Why would he not be?" Lady Isadora asked, her brows knitted in confusion. "His interests should align with ours, shouldn't they?"

Demiurge smirked. "You misunderstand the nature of power, dear lady. Lord is not a man of charity. His motivations are often shrouded in mystery, and you would do well to tread carefully."

Alaric's heart sank. He had hoped that Ainz would be willing to aid them in their time of need, but now he couldn't help but feel that their alliance with him was built on a precarious foundation.

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The Arrival of the Mage

Just as the tension began to rise again, a figure appeared at the doorway, cutting through the mounting unease. A tall man with a commanding presence strode into the room. His long robes flowed like shadows around him, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.

"I am Magnus, the Seer," he introduced himself, a confident grin spreading across his face. "I have come to offer my assistance in your time of need."

Nobles began to murmur excitedly, the atmosphere shifting once more. Alaric watched as the nobles rushed to greet Magnus, showering him with praise and admiration.

"Your reputation precedes you!" Baron Leonhart exclaimed, stepping forward to shake the mage's hand. "We are grateful for your arrival, Magnus. We have heard much about your abilities."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, dear Baron," Magnus replied, his tone light yet powerful. "But I'm not here for idle chatter. I sense great darkness gathering, and I intend to help you face it."

Demiurge's smile tightened at the edges. "Ah, a fellow wielder of arcane power. How charming."

Magnus regarded Demiurge with a raised eyebrow. "And you must be the infamous Demiurge. I've heard tales of your… unique talents. Perhaps we should discuss the nature of our respective powers."

The tension in the room thickened again as Alaric felt the energy shift. Here was a powerful mage, and yet, the presence of Demiurge seemed to eclipse even him.

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A Shared History

As the nobles discussed strategies and shared tales of their exploits, Alaric stood to the side, deep in thought. His mind drifted back to the encounter with the demon from few days ago, a memory he couldn't shake.

In the heat of battle, surrounded by his fellow mages, Alaric had faced a Greater Demon—a being of unimaginable power. His mentor, a wise and powerful mage, had led the charge, believing they could defeat the demon and prove their worth.

But the demon merely toyed with them, dispatching their attacks as if they were nothing more than mere annoyances. Alaric had watched in horror as his comrades fell one by one, his mentor among them, sacrificing himself to buy Alaric the time he needed to escape.

He could still hear the echoing laughter of that demon in his mind, a haunting reminder of his failures.

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The Dark Echoes of Memory

Lost in thought, Alaric hardly noticed when the room fell silent. He blinked and found himself standing before Magnus, who regarded him with a curious expression.

"Is something troubling you, Alaric?" Magnus asked, his voice gentle yet probing.

Alaric hesitated before speaking. "I faced a demon. It was a terrifying experience. I lost many friends that day."

Magnus's expression shifted to one of understanding. "The darkness has a way of creeping into our hearts, doesn't it? But you survived, and that means you have the strength to overcome it again."

Demiurge interjected, his voice laced with mockery. "Strength is nothing without the means to wield it. Do you truly believe you can protect your people when the shadows begin to rise?"

Alaric met Demiurge's gaze, his resolve hardening. "I will not let fear dictate my actions. I've learned from my past, and I will face whatever comes my way."

Magnus smiled approvingly, while Demiurge's expression remained inscrutable. The tension between them was palpable, yet Alaric felt a surge of determination.

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A Moment of Unity

As the discussions continued, the nobles began to rally around Alaric once more, their faith slowly returning. They exchanged ideas, brainstorming ways to fortify their defenses and prepare for the oncoming threat.

With each passing moment, Alaric felt the weight of responsibility settle upon his shoulders. He was determined to prove himself, to protect his kingdom and honor the memory of those he had lost.

The night wore on, filled with planning and strategizing, as the nobles drew closer together in their shared resolve. Alaric realized that despite the darkness looming on the horizon, they were united in their purpose.

And as he glanced at Magnus and Demiurge, he couldn't shake the feeling that their destinies were intertwined in ways he had yet to understand. The battle ahead would test not only their strength but their unity as well.

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The Storm Approaches

With the sun setting outside, casting a golden hue over the room, Alaric knew the calm before the storm was coming to an end. The Orcs were gathering, their threat becoming more pronounced each day.

But he also felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. Together, they could face the darkness that approached, standing against the shadows with unwavering resolve.

As the meeting came to a close, Alaric's heart raced with anticipation. This was only the beginning, and he was determined to rise to the challenge, whatever it might be.

And as the last remnants of daylight faded, he steeled himself for the trials that lay ahead, knowing that the true battle was yet to come.